


a sentimental feeling when you hear

by pettigrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Bromance, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas traditions, First Christmas, Fluff, Gen, Jewish Stiles Stilinski, McCall Pack, Mexican Scott McCall, Pack Feels, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Underage Drinking, Warning: Incredibly Wholesome, obviously, this author is a member of the scott mccall fanclub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 02:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17092367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettigrace/pseuds/pettigrace
Summary: Scott and Stiles celebrate Christmas together. For the first time.





	a sentimental feeling when you hear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zoeyva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeyva/gifts).



> My dear friend Pia wished for a fluffy fic where Sciles spend Christmas together! So, here you go! I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Special thanks to [ruxian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruxian/pseuds/ruxian) and [fangirl6202](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl6202/pseuds/fangirl6202) who helped me with American and Mexican Christmas traditions respectively (the latter even though they haven't watched Teen Wolf!). You guys rock!
> 
> The title is from Brenda Lee's "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree".

Scott really hates to be always the one to point out obvious things but somehow he’s come to own that part. He’s pretty sure it’s also why his High School teachers were surprised when he showed insight into the topic during classes - if they think he can barely grasp the obvious, how should he dig deeper into the source? He figures it comes from being around Stiles so much; the guy may be great at connecting the dots and all, but he also skims over things a lot. It’s like the reverse: Stiles can look at one thing and tell you everything that’s not there on first sight, but if you ask him for, like, the shape or colour, he’ll blank out. That’s always been Scott’s part.

Granted, though, it’s probably unnecessary to point something out to Stiles while being in _his_ home, facing something that he must have been part of. Still, Scott finds himself declaring, “That’s a Christmas tree,” while he blinks at it. He can’t help it - it’s not like that sight is something usual in the Stilinskis’ house.

“Yeah, isn’t it cool?”, Stiles answers, bright smile in place.

Scott can’t really argue with that, but only because it’s somewhat difficult to even tell what the tree looks like at first. He’s not sure if it’s just his enhanced senses making life difficult (once again) or if it’s really as sparkly and bright as it seems. Stepping closer to it, he realizes that it’s the latter: there’s barely any of the green visible any more under the decorations that have been poured onto the tree. There’s tinsel in all colours, strings of light that blink and shine, baubles of all kinds (even a Star Wars one); nothing fits together that well, making it a mess of everything that could be used on it. Someone went overboard.

“It’s… something.”, Scott settles with. Honestly, he can’t even tell if it’s particularly ugly or something because there’s just so _much_. And even without the fandom details, he could have been able to tell it was Stiles who took care of it - so much enthusiasm.

He can’t tear his eyes away from the tree and reaches out to touch it. He can’t help it - there’s _never_ been one in this living room. No reason for it when the Stilinskis are Jewish (even when they exercise that only sparsely). There’s no doubt that tree’s been put up for _him_ specifically and suddenly Scott does have a firm opinion about it.

“It’s fucking awesome, dude,” he finally says as he turns around to face his friend again. He means it, just like the grin slipping onto his face, because even if it’s a mess, it’s a mess _for him_. He doesn’t even mind that Stiles has decorated it without him, even if that’s one of Scott’s favourite parts about Christmas, because Stiles has never ever gotten to do this and it only makes it even _better_.

If he were anyone else, he may not be able to read the flicker of emotion in Stiles’ body language - he’s learnt to hide them well with all the supernatural beings running around, but Scott’s still his _best friend_. He can tell the exhale is deeper than it needs to, though only slightly, with the way his shoulder are hunched forward a little and eyes glistening; Stiles seems relieved about hearing that and Scott is glad for it.

“Figured you’d like a little spirit,” Stiles offers, adding a shrug to his movements. “I left the star off because-- that’s what you do, right? Put it on only later?”

Scott can’t help but grin. “Some people do, yeah. Us, not so much, but we can totally do it this year.”

“Nah,” Stiles decides. He walks over to him and hugs Scott’s shoulder tightly, squeezing them like he’s an adult talking to his son. And it’s weird, but Scott’s pretty sure that’s exactly the vibe he’s going for. “Look, _I’m_ not the one celebrating here. We’ve already had Chanukkah.”

Scott frowns. “I thought Chanukkah wasn’t such a big holiday.”

Stiles clicks his tongue. Then he tilts his head. “Yeah, but you get the drift. We’ve had our feasts, now it’s time for yours. You know how long I’ve wanted to barge in on you guys?”

Probably for as long as Scott’s been interested in seeing how Jewish holidays are celebrated. He’s gotten an insight in the past decade but a washed-down version - both Stiles and the Sheriff aren’t, like, super religious so they hadn’t taken it too much to the heart if Scott’s come over for Pesach dinner or something. But somehow, though, there’s always been a barrier for Stiles for some reason. He knows that it’s been Claudia’s opinion at first, to keep their traditions separated. For her, the holidays have always been something to do with the family and the family only. She didn’t like the idea of either of the boys ruining the other family’s tradition, so the Stilinski’s door had always been closed to Scott when a Jewish holiday took place and Stiles wasn’t allowed to come over on Christmas, Easter, Pentecost and even _Dia de los Muertos_ \- it’s just been a rule, one they argued about as kids but accepted. It’s always seemed to Scott like Stiles understood his mom’s reasons better than he did and even shared them or something… Seems like maybe he’s gotten that wrong.

“So, I bought lots of stuff for cookies. We can prepare them and then they can bake while we’re cooking and then they’re ready for tonight--”

Scott bursts into laughter. “ _Dude_ , we’re kinda too old to leave out cookies for Santa.”

At that, Stiles’ eyes grow wide. “ _Okay_ , I said this was all yours but _come one_ , it’s my first Christmas! Don’t cookies belong to that?” He actually starts _pouting_ then and Scott’s giggle fit only grows worse.

“I didn’t say no to cookies, man. Just meant we don’t have to leave some out for Santa, that’s all.”, Scott replies easily. He nudges his elbow against Stiles’ ribs, making him finally pull away his arms. “So, what else have you got in store?”

Stiles smirks. “Well, for starters, turn around,” he tells him and puts his hands back on Scott’s shoulder, nudging him into the right direction.

Scott rolls his eyes, just out of principle, but he bites his lips in anticipation as well. He knows well how much Stiles loves to go out for festivities - more than enough Halloweens account for that. So if it’s his first time celebrating something? It can only be _great_.

And then he spots it: in the corner of the room, where usually the Sheriff stores old newspapers (for research purposes, he always claims, but they all know he’s just lazy), is a new table, bearing something that’s all too familiar to Scott.

“It’s a bit cramped because dad wouldn’t let me move too much stuff,” Stiles offers, “but I think I got the most important things. There’s baby Jesus and his parents and, like, a cow? And--”

“Hang on, that’s _our_ _nacimiento_?” Scott blinks at him. “How the hell did you get that without me noticing?”

“Had some help,” is all Stiles says to that. Scott makes a mental note to have a stern talk with… well, he doesn’t know who exactly. It could’ve been any of the pack who volunteered to break into his house. He figures he should talk to Liam for good measure. “Did I get every important thing on this baby, though?”

Scott doesn’t even need to look to know that he did. He can only imagine the nightlong research sessions that Stiles invested in this - besides, even if Stiles didn’t partake in their decorating the house, he’s still been over plenty during December as a whole. He’s had more than enough time to look at how everything’s been set up and, with that brain of his, it’s no surprise he got it down almost perfectly. And it really is a lot smaller than when it’s been at Scott’s home, so he can’t blame him for missing a few details.

“ _Awesome_ ,” Scott breathes again because what else is he supposed to say? He’d expected the Christmas celebrations to fall short this year - his own idea, really. His mom had meant for him to come along with her and Argent as they flew over to France to celebrate with Isaac. Of course, he would have loved to see him again - it’s been _ages_ \- but… somehow he’s felt in his bones that this trip is something he should give his mom. It’s kind of like a honeymoon, her first trip with her new boyfriend and everything. And he thinks Argent kind of deserves the peace, too.

Stiles is grinning when he turns around, thumbing something on his phone. A moment later Mariah Carey is blasting from every corner of the room. “Setting the mood,” he explains at Scott’s best are-you-freaking-kidding-me look. “I got a whole playlist of those.”

Scott sighs. “Is it one of those random ones on Spotify?”

“This one is called _Christmas Bangerz_ with a Z.”, Stiles declares. “Even I know most of these, so I’m expecting a sing-along.”

Scott playfully rolls his eyes, snorting as he does so. Not knowing the lyrics to something has _never_ stopped Stiles from at least humming along - which is to say, it rarely ever sounds good, but at least he’s having fun.

“ _Plus_ , I have a load of Bubbie Madzia’s eggnog.” Stiles’ smirk looks almost seductive as he adds that.

And _damn_ , if he doesn’t know how to make Scott go weak. Not that he’d need lots of persuasion for all this anyway; Scott _loves_ Christmas. It’s fun and even if you’re sick of the repetitive songs, just hype them and you love them again. The colours of the lights, the smell of cookies and just… hanging out with people you love. It’s everything Scott connects with the holidays and it’s _the best_. And celebrating it with Stiles for the first time? Of course he wouldn’t want to sit out on any of it.

“Your dad’s at the station, right?” He wants to know. Stiles looks a bit confused at the question but he nods anyways. It makes Scott grin even wider than he did so far. “Let’s spike the cookie dough.”

“Brilliant.”

 

-

 

Scott makes the mental note to keep Stiles away from any George Michael songs in the future. He’s having way too much fun with singing along to _Last Christmas_ and won’t even pay attention to his attempts to explain how even if it’s _the_ Christmas song, it’s not _about_ Christmas. Or, well, he supposed it is _a little_. It’s in the freaking title. Anyway, he likes the joyful ones (this just  _sounds_ like that, have you ever paid attention to the _lyrics_?) or the obviously sad sounds way better.

“How much butter again?”, Stiles cuts his own singing off.

“Half a pound.”, Scott answers. He can feel the heat in his cheeks from the eggnog - trust Stiles to find out a way to actually make alcohol affect him - and the giddiness in his bones. Still, though, it shouldn’t be too difficult to remember that it’s _half of everything_. Well, except the rum, he guesses. Not that his mom ever told him that.

Stiles huffs with a shrug, and then he picks up the song again. Scott watches as he hovers the knife back and forth above the block of butter, measuring it leisurely. There’s a batch in the oven, already smelling like heaven. Still, he looks forward even more to the cooking later - he’s caught a glimpse of the insides of the fridge earlier and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what they’re gonna make. Stiles must have asked his mom what to make because he’s never even _had_ _pozole_. It’s their _Christmas_ dinner.

Again, Scott feels a wave of warmth spread through his body. It’s not that Stiles has chosen to celebrate Christmas because he was curious about it or anything - even if that’s what he’s pretending to be - but this whole thing is for _him_. Otherwise, there’d be plenty sources to draw his ideas for today from; movies, their friends and even cookbooks depict in great detail how the average American Christmas should be. These hints of the Mexican culture, the symbiosis of traditions that his mom and him have come to appreciate - it’s all him.

He opens his mouth to say something about it, to tell Stiles how much he appreciates it, but he’s cut off when the next song begins to play. Instead of his voice it’s Stiles’ that announces loudly how, “ _Oh_ , I like this song!” Scott needs a moment, but then he’s nodding his head along to _Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree_ as well.

 

-

 

“ _So_ ,” Stiles makes, pulling the cooking spoon out of their stew. “Dad’s coming home soon, so we can eat-- then, put out the cookies before we leave for mass--”

Scott sets down his glass at once. “Uh, I don’t go to mass. Usually, I mean. We can totally head out if you--”

“Hell no. What am _I_ supposed to do in a church? I’ve had enough praying for the rest of the year.” Stiles shakes his head. When he turns around to Scott, he looks pretty skeptical, though. “You really don’t go? I thought that was, like, a big thing.”

Scott shrugs. “For some people. Mom and I’ve always been lazy, though.” Not only that - they’re just not the most religious people. Sure, Scott _kinda_ believes in a God (especially with all the supernatural stuff he’s encountered in the past) but celebrating the holidays is the most he does. He’s not someone who goes to church every Sunday and apart from a small prayer before dinner - that basically just boils down to _yay, food, thanks_ \- there’s not much of that either. He doesn’t think that makes him a bad Christian because otherwise he thinks he has the same values as the Bible and that’s what it’s about after all, right?

“Huh,” Stiles huffs. Then his face relaxes somewhat. “Fine by me, then we don’t have to go outside in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, right. We’ve always had a problem with that.” Scott says dryly. He swats at Stiles’ hand lightly as it makes a pass for his mug but doesn’t do anything further when he continues. “Anyway, church’s too full anyways.”

“No space for two boys as fat as us, heh?” Stiles muses, taking a sip of Scott’s non-alcoholic soda. Why he doesn’t just get his own is beyond him, but it’s definitely better than having to take care of a puking version of his best friend either way.

“After dinner certainly not,” Scott agrees with a chuckle. They have prepared way too much of it, even with his increased hunger and the Sheriff’s probation on eating healthily - though, that is to say, in his opinion a meal that mostly consists of cabbage and chilis can’t be anything but healthy. It means a promise of leftovers for tomorrow, just lounging around lazily and doing nothing but watch bad reruns on TV. That is both a Christmas and a _ScottandStiles_ tradition from before their lives got all crazy. It’d be great to have it happen again.

He shoves Stiles away from in front the stove and turns off the oven before the third batch of cookies is completely burnt. Even Stiles must realize they’re close to smelling like that rather than just tasty. He slips on the oven mitts and even before opening he reminds Stiles, “They’re hot. Don’t touch them.”, though he knows the other won’t listen.

Stiles just shrugs leisurely but then - as predicted, as soon as Scott’s set down the cookies he reaches for one of them. He lets it fall again immediately, swearing as he does so. At Scott’s laughter he flips him the bird. “They shouldn’t look this pretty if I can’t eat them,” he pouts, staring down at them.

Scott snorts. “They’re not even at their full potential,” he declares and opens a cupboard in search for some decoration stuff. He knows they should wait until the cookies are cold, but he fears there might not be any left then. Stiles is eyeing them already again.

“They’re like the girls at America’s Next Top Model,” Stiles whispers. He leans down close to them, nose hovering just above the batch (and Scott’s pretty sure even that air must be way too hot) and looking at them with wide eyes. “Beautiful in themselves but _breathtaking_ after the make-overs.”

“No more alcohol for you.”, Scott decides at that. He puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and pulls him up again, ignoring the pout in his friend’s face. When there’s suddenly noise coming from the door, he sighs softly, glad for an actual reason that will persuade Stiles, too. People always say _his_ puppy eyes are the worst, though he barely ever makes them on purpose, but those people clearly have never seen Stiles ask for something. “There’s your dad anyway, so-- hide that bottle.”, he says and nods towards the half-empty whiskey bottle displayed on the counter.

Stiles does a little salute in return and moves to store the bottle beneath the sink. Honestly, Scott’s pretty sure the Sheriff will figure out they’ve drunk some stuff within minutes, but it’s better not to give him evidence. Though, with how red Stiles’ cheeks are when he stands up straight again, that should be enough of that.

“Hey boys,” the Sheriff says as he enters the kitchen. He sniffs a few times before sighing, “That smells like something so delicious my son would forbid me to eat it.”

Stiles wriggles his hand in response. “Eh,” he makes. “Think we can have an exception. It’s Christmas, after all.” He shoots a giant smile at Scott then.

“Bless the Christians, then.”, the Sheriff says, winking at Scott, too. Then, he moves closer to the counter, face filled with glee.

“Watch out, the cookies are--”

“ _Ouch_!”

“-- still hot.”, Scott ends with a sigh. He should figure out a way of keeping the Stilinskis from cookies. Thinking about it, his mom should probably know a thing or two about that. He should ask her once the holiday season is over.

Stiles laughs whole-heartedly at his dad, as if he hadn’t done the same mistake only moments ago. It makes Scott shake his head at both at them.

“So, what’s in store tonight? Mexican, right?”, the Sheriff wants to know. “Spicy?”

Scott shrugs. “Not so much for me. Stiles almost died while seasoning, though.”

“I _inhaled_ pepper!”, Stiles claims. And yeah, maybe he did, but Scott’s pretty sure he’s also blinked back a few tears while tasting. Which is saying a lot because even if they don’t cook traditional meals that often at home, Stiles has had his fair share of Mexican cuisine. More often than his dad, anyways. Thinking about it, this meal could get more exciting than he’d thought. “It’s still stuck in my throat! Here, come, take a look!” Stiles opens his mouth widely, pulling Scott closer to inspect it.

Scott just manages to dive away. “ _Dude_ , it’s fine. I believe you.”

When he looks up, he can see the Sheriff eye them with a small smirk - and Scott can read it, he knows it means they don’t appear sober _at all_ \- but he doesn’t say anything about that. Instead, he asks when the food will be ready.

“Any time, really.”, Stiles muses. “And since we cooked, you should set the table, dad.” He says it so casually that the Sheriff moves to go through with that, only to realize at the last second that _he’s_ the adult. Who just came home from work. There’s an exchange of glare and in the next moment it’s Scott who goes to grab some plates. It’ll be faster this way.

 

-

 

“So, when do you open presents? Because I heard there’s places where you already open them on Christmas Eve and--”, Stiles trails off, finally shoving away his plate. He’s eaten so much, it’s incredible. More than Scott, who has literally been blessed with the metabolism of an animal. And moreover, despite how spicy the food has been. Granted, a whole bottle of milk was passed between the Stilinskis, but there’s less of the meal left than he’d have thought.

“Uh, mom and I exchange presents after dinner usually, but this year we agreed to do it when she’s back.”, Scott explains. He doesn’t mind waiting any longer - he’d rather do that than have a rushed exchange of presents before she’d left. “And the rest is usually for the 25th, but I don’t even know if I’ll be able to move again tomorrow.” He pats his stomach for good measure, grimacing at the noises it makes. They haven’t even had ice cream yet!

The Sheriff laughs. “Well, that’s what holidays do, right?”

Out of the corner of his eye Scott can see how Stiles squirms on his seat. It’s like he’s holding himself back, and Scott can smell a hint of nervosity on him. Somehow, it only increases when he raises an eyebrow at him. Still, he finally blurts out, “Can I give you my present?”

“But… dude, I don’t have one for you.” Just like they never celebrated together, they also didn’t exchange presents. Never. It didn’t feel plausible when they’re not part of each other’s holidays, so Stiles has _never_ gotten him a Christmas present and he never gave him one for… well, he’s not even sure if _Chanukkah_ is the holiday with presents or not. Anyway, the point is that it worked. Now, if he had expected to get something, he would have brought something for Stiles, too. He’d feel bad otherwise.

Maybe it shows on his face well enough or maybe Stiles knows his brain too well, but he immediately answers, “Don’t worry, man. It’s just something small. If I didn’t give it to you around now, then it’d just be getting its way to you anyway.”

It’s a good reasoning, Scott supposes, but that doesn’t make him feel any better about not having anything in return. Still, Stiles looks pretty adamant about giving it to him, so finally he nods.

“You boys go do that upstairs, I’mma take care of this mess.”, the Sheriff says while getting up. He shoos them away with a gesture that leaves no room for complaints. Only when they’re already on the first steps of the staircase. “Might not leave any cookies, though.”

“We did hide some, right?”, Stiles wants to know, leaning closer to Scott. Despite the question, he doesn’t even wait for his answer before shouting back. “Yeah, whatever, dad!”

“Be glad we made that many,” Scott hisses at him as they hurry up the stairs. He jokes, of course, because even if Stiles pretends his dad forgets about it, and even with the exception that today is, the Sheriff does watch his eating. There’s no way he’ll devour more than a few of the baked goods, but he still feels like messing with Stiles just because.

His friend just snorts in reply, shoving him lightly. They scramble up the rest of the way like this, playful fighting mixed into the anticipation. Scott would be lying if he said he’s not curious; especially after the way Stiles demanded to give him his present now.

Again, Stiles seems to be able to read his mind. When they reach the top, he hesitates a little, scratching the back of his neck. He looks to the side - not exactly trying to avoid him, but like he’s trying to think of how to explain his thoughts. Scott knows what that is like, so he waits for him to figure it out. It takes a few moments until Stiles mumbles, “You know, it’s actually not, like, really great. I didn’t mean to make empty promises--”

“Dude, you didn’t even need to get me anything,” Scott cuts in. “So, whatever it is, I already love it. Because it’s from you. It’d be weird if you didn’t know what I’d like.”

Stiles chuckles lightly at that. He’s instantly relaxed, Scott can tell even without sensing his chemosignals. “Well, then…”

They go inside Stiles’ room, Scott following the motion and throwing himself onto the bed at once. Meanwhile, Stiles roams through the upper drawer of his desk, the one where he stores important mail usually. Scott feels himself fall into a grin about his present being among the important stuff.

It drops when he gets a package thrown at his face - when did Stiles even get the ability to throw something correctly? Seriously, all those supernaturals showing up in the past had an effect on him. Well, several, really. Anyway, the point is Scott actually has to rub his forehead for a moment before looking down at the present. Stiles has found his way over, too, by now, dropping unceremoniously on his knees next to Scott’s legs.

“This is not a proposal, right?”, Scott mutters when he discovers a box inside the (surprisingly huge amount of) wrapping paper. Granted, it’s not like he’s extremely repulsed by the idea but it’s not like there’s been any talk or reason about it and--

“Dude, _no_ ,” Stiles makes and takes the box out of Scott’s lap. He opens it before showing him what’s inside. “Look, it’s a bracelet. Now, I have no idea if it’s okay for fighting, but I guess it’s not like there’ll be much of that at college…”

“You’re giving me jewellery.”, Scott states. It’s more teasing than surprise, considering lots of memorabilia comes as, like, necklaces or stuff. This might be a throwback to their Ghostbusters phase, for all he knows.

Stiles clicks his tongue impatiently. “It’s with charms. I figured you’d, you know… like something to symbolize the pack when you’re at Davis.”

“Wait, so you--”

“Each charm is for a person in the pack. So, the baseball bat is obviously me,” Stiles explains, holding it up. “I wasn’t sure whether the chimeras actually do count as pack now--” Scott is pretty sure the plural does not mean both Corey and _Theo_ but that Stiles, once again, forgot that Hayden is no longer a chimera. “-- so I just put them together. Here, the moon. Figured it fits to Liam’s mantra, too.”

“So what, there’s a sun that symbolizes Liam?”, Scott wants to know.

“No, you doofus. That’d be too simple. Liam’s the lacrosse stick.”

Scott chuckles. “Because that’s not simple at all.”

Stiles leans back. “Okay, you know what? You try and guess these,” he says and hands him the bracelet back over. “Wasn’t all too easy to figure these out, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Scott mumbles. He didn’t mean to make any fun of the thought Stiles has put into this-- it’s actually incredible, even if some of them are easy to understand: there’s a lightning bolt for Kira and a scarf for Isaac, because after all, Stiles is still a little shit. Scott chokes a bit when he finds an arrow, not expecting that, but he supposes it makes sense that he’d include Allison. More so than the people who voluntarily left Beacon.

At first Scott figures the pile of books stands for Mason, but then Stiles admits that he “kinda forgot he counts as in the pack?” - then it makes sense that it’s Lydia and her wisdom. The heart among the row makes him stop a little, especially since he can’t place it just yet, but Stiles just tells him to do the other two first.

“Okay, so that kinda looks like the tree from Lord of the Rings,” Scott admits. “I’m guessing… Malia?” He moves his thumb over the charm gently, figuring that it _would_ fit to both Malia’s past and her current love for nature.

Stiles nods. “First I thought of going with a deer, but I wanted to make this serious.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re still making fun of Isaac’s scarves.”, Scott grins. By now, they both know the reason as to why Isaac wore them so often, but the memory of the bickering between them still rings up happy memories. Especially since Isaac never truly felt attacked by them beyond the dislike he and Stiles had for one another.

“Well, you know me,” Stiles offers with a shrug. Then he tilts his head. “ _Okay_ , so the next one is _pretty_ obvious…”

Scott probably shouldn’t be surprised to find the Hale Pack Symbol as the charm representing Derek, but he’d barely expected him to be included at all. After all, Derek’s an alpha of his own, continuing the line of his family. But the lines are blurry, Scott knows that in the way both he and Derek had started out as Betas to Peter; and really, the bond between them grows deeper than the Bite. Also, if it were like that, then Stiles shouldn’t have included anyone other than Liam and Hayden, because those are the only ones he has turned. No, his pack goes beyond all that - they’re a _family_.

It leaves him with the last charm, the heart. It’s a simple one, without any details or anything, but slightly bigger than the other charms. Scott quickly goes through the list of people in his head, trying to figure out if he forgot anyone. He doubts that Stiles would include Jackson in it because even while they were involved in the supernatural together, his leaving so quickly after being turned into a werewolf didn’t leave time to create a real bond. Actually, Scott’s not even sure if there really is an Alpha for him with the confusing events preceding his becoming a wolf. He should probably ask one of the more experienced about it; it’d seem horrible if he went through the world alone like this.

Still, with Jackson out of the picture, it still doesn’t help Scott figure out who the heart is supposed to be. “Uh… Our parents?” They play a vital part to the pack, both in their own ways. It’d make sense to count them as members of it, come to think of it.

Stiles’ face falls slightly. “Should’ve thought of them, huh? Damn,” he says softly. “No, eh… the heart’s you, obviously.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s cheesy, right?” Stiles rubs his neck again. “I mean, it was pretty much the one that sprung to me right away, actually. Because you’re not just the leader of the pack, you _are_ its heart. It’s the foundation of all of our actions and you’re just… you’re so _wholesome_ , dude--”

“I--”, Scott blinks a couple of times. He feels himself choking lightly, out of being positively overwhelmed. “Thanks, man. I love it. It’s wonderful.”

“Really? It’s not, like, too sentimental or shit?”

Scott holds up the bracelet, letting the heart face towards Stiles. “Hey, if I’m the heart, then what could I have _against_ sentimental stuff?” The shove he gets in return tells him his teasing had the wished effect, as does the faint brush on his best friend’s cheeks. “No, but seriously. It’s great.”, he adds and turns his wrist to put it on.

Stiles slaps away his hands. “Here, let me help you. And then we’ll forget about it, crash on the couch and get on with watching Star Wars.”

“That’s not a Christmas movie,” Scott points out with a chuckle.

He’s met with a glare. “I don’t care. I’m no Christian and _you_ , my friend, are still lacking serious education. Who says I didn’t set all this up just to finally drag you into space?”

Scott highly doubts that, even if Stiles doesn’t shy away from dramatic acts in whatever he does. No, he knows and appreciates what today has been, that it’s been more about him than anything, but he also gets that Stiles doesn’t want it be pointed out. And it shouldn’t, because it’s not like these acts of love are anything rare between them. It’s written into the way that Stiles strokes over his wrist softly after closing the bracelet and the way Scott can’t take his eyes off it, the way that even though the distance between each charm is the same, the heart and the bat seem closer than the rest.

“Of course,” is all he says in return.

**Author's Note:**

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